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Reel To Reel:
The Man

How It Rates: **
Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Eugene Levy
Rated: PG-13
Red Flags: Language, Violence, Fart Jokes

Preconceived Notions: Cop-buddy movie in black and white.
The Bottom Line: Has its moments, but could use a few more.

The Man isn't a crime comedy or buddy-buddy comedy or underworld shoot-em-up, even though at times it tries to be one or more of those things. I'm not sure where I would place it if I had to pick a sub-genre. But I know this for sure: as I watched the film, I felt the characters should have been smarter than the words coming out of their mouths.

Crime comedies -- or con-caper films -- work when they feed off situational awareness, when the players have that feeling something isn't right about this job, this guy, that deal, leading them down the slope of complications brought about by trying not to end up like a chump. The Man has some who do, and several who don't. And those who don't simply waltz on through the picture without getting a clue, and it's hard to imagine they could function in their jobs as cops or criminals with that utter cluelessness.

This is a comedy, you will argue, and comedies suspend the rules. True. I merely point out what separates a standout picture from four or five gag reels.

Andy Fidler (Levy), a nerdy dental-supply salesman from Wisconsin, is in Detroit for a conference. He unknowingly walks into the middle of a firearms sting operation, headed by Vann (Jackson), a street-tough ATF agent loosely remixed from one of the principal characters in Training Day.

Fidler is mistaken for an arms buyer in a scene at a lunch counter that's frankly hard to swallow. A contact for the dealer tells Vann to sit at a certain spot in a diner with USA Today. You would the successful crook would choose something other than a favorite paper of business travelers. So Fidler is sitting at that spot with the paper, and our contact assumes he's the buyer. But work with me here now. The contact slides Fidler a lunch bag with a gun and a phone and asks Fidler if he "wants a taste."

Now one of two things should happen here in a well-written film: Fidler should say, "Uh, I have my own lunch, thanks," while passing the bag back, which he does, but not with that line. And secondly, our contact should realize something's wrong here with this guy who's white as a sheet and doesn't get the hint, and move along. The problem is, our contact ignores what should be a basic, cardinal instinct, and leaves Fidler holding the bag. Now it's up to Vann to pull the bust off while putting up with this chatterbox -- and dodge Internal Affairs, which suspects he just bumped off his partner in an arms deal gone bad.

I can't say a lot about the chemistry between Levy and Jackson. Sometimes it works; sometimes it just spins. Maybe that's because Jackson's character is wound too tight and Levy's too loose. A couple of scenes involving Levy's digestive problems with red meat grab laughs, but they're more the exception than the rule.

The Lethal Weapon movies were funny as well as exciting because the characters were always at the top of their game. The Man keeps trying to run plays but keeps losing yardage.